Title: Dare to Refuse Such a Man
Rating: K+ (PG) – because I can't think of anything at this point which would constitute a higher rating. Should be sweet and clean.
Disclaimer: Though I write stories based on the novels and characters of Jane Austen, this work belongs to ME and no one else. Unless given express permission, no one besides myself has the right to distribute or profit from my intellectual property. All rights reserved.
Setting: Regency

Summary: It had never occurred to Fitzwilliam Darcy that, once he had chosen a bride, her father might dare to refuse his consent. However, a woman worthy of being pleased is also worth fighting for. DE, Regency, clean romance.

"He is the kind of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything which he condescended to ask."

Mr Bennet, Pride and Prejudice Volume III, Chapter 17

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sunday
October 20, 1811

In retrospect, Bennet should have anticipated the oncoming strife, but it had always been his nature to leave off worrying over things that had yet to occur. This sometimes meant a nasty surprise, but he felt that such things were usually inevitable regardless of how much fretting or grumbling he applied to the situation beforehand and so accepted whatever came with a measure of que sera, sera (1) philosophy. Such a lackadaisical attitude regarding recent events had left Bennet unprepared for the treason committed against him by those who supposedly loved him best.

The Lord's Day had begun the same way that each day preceding it had, with the sun rising in the east and stirring all of God's myriad creatures into wakefulness. Being that it was, indeed, a Sunday, the good Christian souls of Hertfordshire stirred from their beds a mite earlier than their normal wont to prepare themselves for church services where they would mingle with their neighbors, trade in scurrilous gossip and, if the rector were looking on, perhaps even penitently worship the Almighty for some time. Once returned to Longbourn after singing the requisite number of hymns and enjoying – or enduring – the parson's message of the day, the Bennets would partake of a light luncheon and disperse to their separate activities until required to gather again for dinner. After their evening meal, Bennet was in the habit of reading aloud to his brood from something informative – currently, they were in the middle of Shakespeare's King Lear, a weighty drama full of madness and disobedient daughters – which might fill their otherwise empty minds for an hour or so while they took their tea. Finally, they would all return to their beds from whence they had started. Such a routine had been practiced by the unexceptional Bennet family for many a year and their patriarch had, upon rising at the cock's crow at the cusp of dawn on this particular Sunday in October, no other expectations of what the day might hold other than the norm. However, Bennet had not counted upon the effect of his unexceptional family being at the center of an exceptional piece of news.

Nearly as soon as the Bennets had marched round the curve in the lane into the plain view of the churchyard, they were accosted by the friendly faces of the four-and-twenty families of the area, all eager to greet them. Suspiciously eager. Every acquaintance he had ever known, or so it seemed to Bennet's startled eyes, flocked to them like birds descending upon a newly seeded field, squawking and chirping their felicitations.

"Miss Elizabeth, how lovely you look this morning!"

"Congratulations, my dear."

"You must be so proud of your Eliza, Mrs Bennet."

Bennet's jaw clenched tightly at the onslaught of unwanted well-wishers, all of whom were apparently suffering under the misapprehension that a single kiss at an assembly meant an instant betrothal between the involved parties. He supposed that he must be in the minority to believe that an impetuous embrace need not determine one's ultimate destiny, but the simple minds of a country community could hardly comprehend anything other than a quick march to the altar.

Well, once an official announcement failed to come forth in the next few days, he was sure that the fervor would die down. And when Collins arrived, it would all be put to rest with more permanence. In the meantime, Bennet deflected any congratulations aimed his way with grunts and curt nods; there was little point in explaining anything to this mob.

Feeling that it was perhaps best to flee than fight these unfounded and disgusting rumors, Bennet tugged on his wife's arm and quietly insisted, "Come, Mrs Bennet."

"In a moment, dear," Mrs Bennet replied, flicking her handkerchief at him dismissively before returning to her conversation with her Sister Philips and a coalition of other village matrons. They were all cackling and gloating in a way which rubbed gratingly against Bennet's patience. Naturally, Mrs Bennet would be enjoying this. Undoubtedly at his expense, too.

Ire stoked, Bennet opened his mouth to call his wife to order in a manner which could not be gainsaid or waved off, but before he could speak a single syllable of reprimand a heavy hand descended upon his shoulder and drew his attention away from Mrs Bennet.

"Good morning, my old friend!" Sir William Lucas boomed over the din created by everyone else, his mouth stretched as wide as Bennet had ever seen it in a grin. So saying, Sir William turned slightly to Bennet's left and bowed gallantly to Mrs Bennet, who distanced herself immediately from the gaggle of other ladies to accept felicitations from this new quarter. "And to you, of course, Mrs Bennet. What a glorious morning to hear banns read, eh? When I heard that our dear Miss Eliza was to be married, well, I said to Lady Lucas that no other young lady of the neighborhood was so deserving as she, indeed I did!"

Bennet felt his heart and mind seized with unpleasant surprise and whipped his head round to fix his eyes upon his wife, whose expression showed none of what her husband was feeling. To the contrary, Mrs Bennet was all polite, benevolent smiles as she addressed Sir William and avoided looking at Bennet. "Oh, yes, a most glorious morning, indeed! You are most kind, sir, most kind...And where is your dear wife?"

Sir William pivoted his body and indicated with a lordly wave of his hand the direction of Lady Lucas, scowling and chatting with Mrs Golding some yards away. Both ladies appeared to be in high dudgeon about something and Bennet had a prickling suspicion of what it might be.

Turning back to the Bennets, Sir William lied directly to their faces with not a single tell to indicate that he spoke anything but the truth. His genial nature was entirely unchanged. "Lady Lucas passes on her congratulations as well, of course. We are all most pleased for our Eliza! Quite the jewel of the country, as I have always said. Mr Darcy has made a superb choice for his bride."

Bennet clenched his jaw tightly and glared down at his wife who studiously refused to notice. He could practically feel her vibrating with smugness, which only increased Bennet's irritation. Glancing behind him where he had left the girls, standing in pairs (save for Mary, who walked as a single amongst her sisters), he sought out Lizzy. There she stood, her arm still hooked through Jane's, looking as benign as she could possibly manage and returning his gaze unflinchingly. Bennet furrowed his brow and deepened his frown a moment, a silent promise that they would speak on this matter later, and then refocused his attention on the conversation going on without him between Mrs Bennet and Sir William.

"...met in Derbyshire over the summer while Lizzy was traveling with the Gardiners. Fell violently in love with her!"

"Yes, yes, I think that much was apparent." Sir William winked cheekily at Bennet as if they were sharing some harmless little joke between them as gentlemen. Bennet remained impassive.

"I take it the gossips have been at it again?" Bennet surmised aloud, speaking for the first time. Before then, his participation had been superfluous anyway.

Sir William guffawed deeply, his hands resting against his lapels. "In a friendly way only, Bennet! All good things, I assure you. I will admit that we were all a little...shocked after the scene at the assembly, but once it was confirmed that Mr Darcy and your Eliza were engaged, why, it was all well again. 'Twas a little improper at such a public venue, of course, but these young couples are all so full of passion these days that I think we must make allowances for them. Besides, now that they are to marry, there is no harm done."

Now it came out. Mrs Bennet – undoubtedly aided and abetted by that clucking hen she called a sister – had been telling tales to the neighbors. Bennet shot another glare at his wife, which she persisted in ignoring, before replying, "Yes, well, perhaps you should not believe everything you are told. It would not surprise me if it all came to nothing in the end."

Sir William's eyes widened comically – indeed, Bennet was almost inclined to laugh and might have had he not been otherwise so fractious – in what could only be read as shock. A moment later, however, his expression relaxed and he unleashed another loud laugh. "You nearly had me there, old friend! I can never tell when you are jesting."

Sir William was then joined by his own wife who, after offering Mrs Bennet a cold and perfunctory congratulations for Lizzy's supposed triumph, dragged her husband away to speak to someone else. Before Sir William could be replaced by another of their neighbors, Bennet escorted Mrs Bennet a little to the side so that they might share a word in private.

"What is the meaning of this, Mrs Bennet? Have you put about that Lizzy is engaged to that Darcy fellow?" Bennet demanded to know in a harsh whisper. His accompanying glare was hot enough to singe.

Mrs Bennet's return gaze was cool and her smile self-satisfied. In a properly modulated tone, one which she only used when feeling herself particularly in the right of a situation, she replied, "It is the natural conclusion of the events of the assembly, Mr Bennet. I am sure our neighbors filled in all the proper blanks themselves."

"And I am sure you had nothing to do with that." Bennet's words were now barely eking themselves out between the weave of his teeth.

Mrs Bennet shrugged noncommittally. "Anything I might have said was for the benefit of our family. You would not wish Lizzy to be shunned by the community, I am sure?" She waited a moment for Bennet to respond, but he would not. At length, she continued, "I thought not. Can you not see that we would have been utterly ruined if Lizzy had not turned up engaged to Mr Darcy immediately following that little display at the assembly? Not only Lizzy, mind, but all the rest of us along with her. Unless you wish five unmarriageable daughters on your hands, I would abandon your stubbornness and accept what is inevitable."

"I will do nothing of the sort," Bennet countered with a derisive snort. "And I hope you realize that your pin money is now forfeit until further notice."

Mrs Bennet waved her husband's threat away with an impatient flutter of her handkerchief. "I am sure that my future son-in-law Darcy will be most generous once he and Lizzy are married."

"You had best hope that Mr Collins is generous with you, Mrs Bennet, for I will not be." Bennet could feel the heat rise in his face, hear the rush of blood in his ears, as his anger swelled at his wife's betrayal. The silly bit of fluff could not even comprehend what she had done – or perhaps she simply did not care. To undermine one's husband, and in a way so diametrically opposed to his stated mandates, was...was...well, it was simply not done! "I am aghast that you would be so underhanded as to go against my express wishes in this matter. You forget, madam, that I am the lord and master of Longbourn and that all of your comforts come at my sufferance."

Mrs Bennet still failed to be intimidated. She sneered at Bennet and tossed her head before scoffing, "Mr Collins – pah! I care nothing for Mr Collins and neither does Lizzy. Cling to whatever delusions you must for now, Mr Bennet, but you will not win the day. You will see eventually that you have been outmaneuvered."

"Outmaneuvered"? By his ridiculous, empty-headed wife? Impossible! Bennet might have said as much if he had been in better command of his faculties, but the boiling rage heating his blood had sapped him of his ability to speak – at least without shouting and calling attention to their dispute.

With her nose pointed high into the air, Mrs Bennet stalked away from him with all the false dignity she possessed to go mingle with the crowd of well wishers gathered in the churchyard. Bennet watched her go, his face still tight in a scowl, fuming at his wife's audacity and urging his feelings to cool. What was she playing at? Regardless of what anyone else thought on the matter, it was still Bennet's prerogative to accept or reject any suitor who came sniffing after his daughters' skirts and no marriage could ever proceed without his express permission. Not until the girl in question reached her majority, at any rate, and Lizzy would not achieve one-and-twenty until the summer. Bennet still had many months to accomplish his ends and had naught to do but wait until Lizzy eventually came to her senses. She could not hold out for much longer, he was sure, especially when he presented her with all the benefits he was offering her.

With these thoughts percolating in Bennet's mind, he set his eyes to scanning the gathered parishioners for a sight of his second, most favorite daughter. There she was, surrounded by a gaggle of ladies who were all speaking with what appeared even from a distance to be rapid excitement, smiling cheerfully at them all. Lizzy certainly seemed unconcerned at the betrayal she was perpetuating against her father. He caught her eye a moment and, though she blushed slightly under his scrutiny, proved his suspicions by staring back at him with the defiance which had characterized her treatment of him of late. She then looked away sharply and returned to her conversation with one of the Miss Longs.

As he was watching Lizzy, his anger spiked again by her dismissive and disrespectful manner, he witnessed the very bone of contention between them approach her from behind. With a gentle touch to the point of Lizzy's elbow, that Dastardly Darcy garnered her attention to himself and their expressions thereafter matched one another's in besotted joy. Lizzy turned to face Darcy, her back now entirely to her father. How fitting.

"Good morning, Mr Bennet! God has surely crafted us a beautiful day." Bennet turned his head to observe Mr Stephens, the rector he had appointed to the Meryton parish, standing close by and smiling in that benevolent fashion so common to the clergy. He was a youngish man, only a year or two over thirty, and as level headed as one could wish in their local rector. He was also properly learned in Latin and Greek, which had impressed Bennet upon interviewing the man some three years prior for the position he now held; many men of the cloth purported to be great readers and fluent in the ancient tongues, but Bennet found that few were actually so. Further, Mr Stephens was not so mired in the ancient doctrines as to be insufferable or judgmental; he was a caring shepherd to his flock as well as a liberally minded gentleman filled with both common and uncommon sense. Bennet and Mr Stephens had partaken of many genial, knowledgeable conversations since knowing one another and Bennet had no regrets about appointing him. His only sin, in Mrs Bennet's estimation, was that he was already married with two small children and thus could not be paired with one of their daughters.

"Good morning."

Mr Stephens seemed to take Bennet's grumbling response in stride as he continued, "Your wife spoke to me yesterday about the reading of the banns and I wanted to confer with you and obtain your official consent. I am sure Mrs Bennet would not make such a request without reason, you understand, but the formalities must be attended to."

Bennet was a hair's breadth away from issuing a snide denial in return, but paused at the last moment when a better notion occurred to him. More calmly than he was inclined, Bennet replied, "Indeed, it would be best to go ahead and read them for Lizzy and Mr Collins. I was intending to speak to you about it soon, in any case."

His face a study in bewilderment, Mr Stephens shook his head and sought clarification with a query. "'Mr Collins'? I had thought the groom's name to be 'Darcy.'"

"Oh, no, that is just a little rumor going about the neighborhood," Bennet affected an air of unconcern and flicked his hand dismissively, as if swatting a bothersome gnat. "Lizzy is actually engaged to my heir, Mr William Collins. He will be here in a fortnight and it is the hope that they will be married by Christmas."

"Mrs Bennet was quite adamant that Miss Elizabeth was to marry Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, of Pemberley in Derbyshire. I am quite certain that I did not mishear," persisted Mr Stephens, his expression now shifting into one of suspicion. "Indeed, Miss Elizabeth herself said as much. You say she is to marry this Mr Collins instead?"

"Yes."

"Dare I inquire as to how this discrepancy came about?" Mr Stephens was everything outwardly conciliatory to the man he owed his living, but there was still a palpable air of wary curiosity about him.

Bennet shrugged in a fashion which he felt to be nonchalant. "Who knows how the female mind truly works? Perhaps Mrs Bennet wished it to be true after that little...incident on Friday. I am sure she wished to quell the whispers of our so-called friends; you know how nervous she fancies herself at times."

"I see."

"Then we are agreed that you will read the banns for Lizzy and Mr Collins?"

Mr Stephens stood before Bennet, regally straight in his vestments, and frowned lightly. "I am afraid that, until this little confusion is cleared up, that I shall refrain from reading banns for any couple at the present time."

Bennet pinned the rector with his piercing green gaze. "Is it not the father's right to call the banns on behalf of his daughter?"

"It is," Mr Stephens agreed, not in the least intimidated, "but as Miss Elizabeth was very adamant with me that she would be marrying Mr Darcy, I would spare us all the embarrassment of invoking the banns prematurely. Moreover, it is ultimately up to the couple in question to say their vows at the altar and I would not wish for any...unpleasantness or disruptions. I am not refusing to read the banns entirely, I only ask that you speak to your wife and daughter to clear up this misunderstanding before anything more formal is announced. When it is done, bring Miss Elizabeth to the rectory to confirm which is the groom of her choice."

Bennet wished to rage against Mr Stephens, – the liberal twit – against them all, and proclaim loudly to everyone present that his word was law at Longbourn and that he would not be gainsaid. However, Bennet still had enough control to hold himself aloof for the time being; he was not yet so overwrought as to cause a scene. No, that was his wife's domain.

"Very well," was all Bennet could really say to Mr Stephens in light of the lack of other options. "I shall come see you sometime during the course of the week."

"And bring Miss Elizabeth?" Mr Stephens pressed with a meaningful raise of his eyebrows.

"Of course." Hmph. Bennet would have to press Lizzy on the matter with more force and expediency than he had originally comprehended. Most unfortunate.

With corresponding nods of a polite, if not quite genial, nature, the two gentlemen parted. Mr Stephens strode across the churchyard toward the chapel, his robes billowing about him as he moved, and entered. Bennet watched as the flock of parishioners began to recognize the import of such a silent communication and meandered after him like so many wandering sheep.

Bennet looked about and found each of his daughters loitering about, here or there, caught up in their own pursuits. Mary was already crossing the threshold into the church, leading the way for the devout, while her younger siblings were giggling with their empty-headed friends further away. Jane was speaking to that Bingley fellow and one of his sisters – the married one, Bennet thought, but he honestly could not tell the difference between them – and Mrs Bennet was nattering away at Mrs Philips. No doubt concocting more lies to spread about the village, hmph. And, speaking of Lizzy, there she was cozied up against that Disgusting Darcy, her arm entangled with his as he escorted her toward the chapel steps at a leisurely pace.

Deciding that such effrontery was not to be borne, Bennet emerged from the figurative shadows and marched across the grass to intercept the couple before Lizzy could make even more a fool of him. As he approached, Lizzy spotted him first, then that Darcy, and their contented smiles fell away. Good.

"Elizabeth," Bennet addressed her, stressing her proper name with a good measure of impatience. He held out his own elbow to his second daughter and waited for her to take it like an obedient child, eyebrow raised.

Lizzy glared at him a moment but, perhaps as conscious of making a scene as Bennet himself was, dropped Darcy's arm. She did not latch onto her father, however, instead choosing to dip a curtsy to them both – bestowing upon her overstepping beau an encouraging little smirk, but only a neutral expression for her formerly dear papa – and moved to enter the church with Jane who was then passing.

Darcy, his look quite severe, nodded and moved to sidestep Bennet, his obvious intent to nip behind Lizzy at her heels. Bennet, however, countered this maneuver and blocked Darcy's path, earning an even sharper glare for his troubles.

Nonplussed, Bennet whispered, "I will remind you, yet again, that my permission has been denied and you are to stay well away from Lizzy."

With a quick glance about them, an obvious check for eavesdroppers, Darcy hissed in return, "So you would rather see her ruined than married to a respectable man?"

"I would rather see her show the obedience and respect she was raised with, sir." Bennet straightened himself as tall as he could manage, but found himself still embarrassingly wanting in height compared to Darcy. Still, he would not be intimidated. "You know my sentiments and they will not change, no matter what underhanded schemes you and my wife have concocted together. Good day, sir."

Bennet turned and stalked into the chapel before Darcy could formulate a response, basking in the only victory he had yet achieved – that of getting in the last word.

o0o

Bennet closed his study door with such force that he heard the windowpane across the room rattle in its casement. He had never been so angry, not even the night of the assembly when that Despicable Darcy had humiliated the name of Bennet. That had been bad enough, but today he found himself betrayed by his own silly, meddling, empty-headed wife. Worse, she had involved his favorite child in the deception.

"Damn her!" Bennet exclaimed as he stalked across the floorboards toward his desk. He threw himself into his chair, which protested this rough treatment with a shrill squeak, and snarled. "Damn her and her damn sister, too!"

Bennet had woken that morning with the vain hope that the Lord's Day might be of some solace to him and the calamity he had found himself embroiled in, but such was apparently not to be thanks to Mrs Bennet and her gossipy sister. The pair of them had, behind his back, spread the disgusting lie that Dastardly Darcy and his Lizzy were engaged following the events of the assembly. Worse, the neighborhood at large had believed it and spread it amongst themselves until it had become a truth universally acknowledged. Bennet had only discovered his wife's perfidy upon being congratulated for it by that pontificating Sir William. Untenable!

The smug little smile on Mrs Bennet's face had left Bennet in no doubt as to the source of the rumors, not that she had bothered to deny it. She had pranced about in the churchyard as if playing a part on the stage, rouged up and smiling affectedly at everyone who came up to praise her or Lizzy for procuring such a son-in-law. Bennet had never been so disgusted at his wife's preening before, though admittedly he had not felt it quite so rubbed in his face prior to this event.

And then there had been Lizzy herself who had done absolutely nothing to dispel the tittle-tattle circulating amongst the local populace. She stood right at her mother's side, smiling and accepting all of her neighbors' best wishes for her future health and happiness, obviously in cahoots with whatever scheme Mrs Bennet (and her vile Sister Philips, who had cackled right alongside them) had orchestrated on her behalf.

"At least the banns cannot be read," grumbled Bennet, further incensed by Mr Stephens' role in their ongoing family drama. It should matter not a single whit what tales Mrs Bennet was spreading, or who Lizzy said she was to marry; it was Bennet who gave – or denied – permission. Mr Stephens should call whatever banns the girl's father instructed! Lizzy would ultimately be swayed to reason, so what business was it of the local rector's to refrain from his sworn duty until the immaterial details were sorted out?

Of course, Bennet was less angry with Mr Stephens who was, after all, only a distant party to the situation than he was with his brother Philips. Mr Stephens at least had his principals to stand upon when he denied Bennet his wishes, but Philips had only his own cowardice to hide behind. When Bennet had, upon exiting the church after services, halted his brother-by-marriage to discuss the progress being made upon the marriage documents he had requested on behalf of Lizzy and Collins, Philips had blustered and stammered but given him no concrete answer as to when they might be ready. It had hardly required the entirety of Bennet's mental prowess to determine that Philips, generally laughed at amongst the other men of the surrounding area for being henpecked by his wife, had been persuaded by Mrs Philips to abandon the articles – or perhaps even destroy them – to stymie betrothal which had been sanctioned in order to bolster the case of the one which had not. Bennet would have happily used another attorney for his needs, but in a small country community like Meryton his choices were limited unless he wished to drag himself all the way to London. As Bennet avoided that cesspool of avarice and hedonism whenever possible, he had settled for what was locally available. To his detriment, it seemed.

Now Bennet found himself surrounded by traitors and spineless cowards. Well, no matter what sort of opposition he faced, Bennet would not yield when he knew himself to be in the right. Lizzy might be disappointed, Mrs Bennet could scheme and plot, her sister might gossip and intimidate, the parson could stonewall and Philips could abandon his professional responsibilities, but he would remain steadfast to his purpose.

Bennet rose from his seat and strode to the window which overlooked the front garden to gaze out upon his land. He stood there, one arm crossed over his chest while the other supported his chin within the crook of his thumb and forefinger, pondering. He considered his problem from different angles, attacked it with various ideas, but could think of nothing he could do other than stay the course. Mrs Bennet might create confusion with the lies she spouted, Lizzy might behave petulantly, but what could they really do? Nothing. Regardless of their stratagems, they required Bennet's permission if Lizzy wished to marry and that he would never concede. They were stymied so long as he refused to give it.

But then, Lizzy's consent to a match was almost as valuable as her father's, at least when it came to the ultimate point. Mr Stephens, Bennet was forced to concede now that he had calmed sufficiently, may have been correct to withhold the reading of any banns until Lizzy could be convinced to accept Collins; technically, she could not be forced to say "yes" at the altar. To attempt it would invalidate the marriage, even if Bennet could bring himself to perform any act which might impel her to give the answer he wished. Just the thought of what "persuasion" might be required to bring about Lizzy's acquiescence against her will made Bennet's stomach churn and so he would not even think of it. She had already scoffed at the notion that he would turn her out of the house for disobedience, and Bennet could not deny that it was unlikely that he would ever seriously contemplate doing so; he loved his Lizzy far too much to cast her into the hedgerows. Besides, to do so would be to forfeit to his enemies; the Gardiners – if not Disgusting Darcy himself – would take her in and then Lizzy need only wait until her next birthday to wed whomever she chose. He felt impotent to do anything, quite frankly.

And so it seemed that they were at a stalemate for the nonce. Bennet would not give permission for Lizzy to marry anyone other than his heir, and Lizzy would accept none save that Darcy. A frustrating impasse on both sides.

Bennet shifted positions so that he was leaning with one arm pressed up against the upper portion of the window frame, his other hand formed into a loose fist and resting upon his hip. When he sighed, the warmth of his breath frosted the glass with condensation and obscured the view beyond of which he was almost entirely insensible. Bennet was not looking outward, but inward as he continued to consider his options going forward.

Without the stomach to command his daughters the way some men – brutes, not gentlemen – were inclined or any credibility behind threats of expulsion from the family, Bennet was left with only one weapon in his arsenal – cool, logical reason. His only hope was to convince Lizzy that he had her best interests at heart and that she could find no rational happiness in romantic whimsy.

After all, this Darcy might very well be the richest man in Derbyshire, but what did they really know of him? Would he treat Lizzy well? Respect her finely tuned mind? Or would he, upon achieving his ends, grow tired of a witty wife with little dowry and no connections to speak of? Bennet knew very well that "love" never lasted in the way the young invariably believed it would and that regrets were common once the luster of romance wore off and the dullness of reality set in. Lizzy very likely believed that she "loved" Darcy, and perhaps Darcy was convinced of the same in return, but considering their myriad differences in upbringing, wealth and educations, it was unlikely to persist beyond the first year or two and then Lizzy would be trapped in far flung Derbyshire with a husband who would barely keep her respectable. What then? If she were safely home at Longbourn, amongst those who had cared about her well being since birth, she would at least have some solace. Bennet himself, her mother and sisters, their neighbors, any future children she might have with Collins, all of them would see to her contentment. Marrying Darcy was a foolhardy gamble, in Bennet's opinion; no amount of jewels or fine carriages could ever make Lizzy happy in place of true affection.

And Collins would make an adequate husband, Bennet was certain. There seemed no harm in him from the correspondence that they carried on between them; he was a man of God, for one thing, and family, for another. Most importantly, he was an impressionable, malleable young man who Bennet knew would follow the lead of a stronger head, if given the right prodding. After all, had Collins not accepted Lizzy, sight unseen, upon Bennet's recommendation? Bennet would admit that his cousin was, perhaps, not the cleverest of men, but there was some value to being the more intelligent partner – it was one of the few benefits Bennet found in his own marriage.

That Despicable Darcy would dominate his Lizzy, Bennet was sure of it, and she would not have such an easy time outwitting him as she might Collins. Darcy had a certain gleam in his eye, one which indicated a depth of thought most people were incapable of. More than that, it had been no small feat for Darcy to have tracked Lizzy down with little more than her name and general direction, even with his money behind him. Gardiner's report, too, had lauded Darcy as "clever" amongst his other supposed attributes and so Bennet knew that Lizzy would not be able to reason circles around him or bend him to her own way of thought. Nor would such a proud, severe gentleman allow her the same intellectual stimulation that she currently found at home, Bennet was sure; what would she do when Darcy forbade her from doing more than tending her sewing or planning out the week's menus? She would be giving up the independence her father so generously allowed her in looking after the estate and reading whatever books she fancied. Lizzy had not considered this, she could not have, when she had foolishly accepted Darcy.

No, Lizzy's mind would be better put to use here at Longbourn where she could balance the account books, oversee the planting and assist the tenants. Would Darcy let her do that at his vaunted Pemberley? Doubtful. At Longbourn, she would be master in all but title, showing Collins how everything was to be done and orchestrating the household to her own design. She had already been doing it for years now and excelled at it. In fact, Lizzy's little trip to Derbyshire had been a treat in honor of the excellent job she had been doing, a holiday from her responsibilities at home before the harvest came in. Bennet's generosity on that score had been misplaced considering the trouble she had stirred up.

And, really, why should she not be exceedingly grateful to her papa for the great honor he was bestowing upon her? He was, in a roundabout way, making Lizzy his de facto heir by promoting the match with Collins. His cousin might technically be Longbourn's future master, but Lizzy would be the one to actually take control; Collins would merely be the figurehead. At least, that was how Bennet was planning to set it up as soon as they married. Collins, upon saying his vows to Lizzy, would never have to venture into darkest Kent ever again to be under the thumb of that meddlesome harpy he called patroness. Instead, Bennet fully intended to step down as master and allow the younger generation to take over the bulk of the responsibility, with Lizzy at the helm and Collins as her second in command.

It was a perfect plan, really. Collins would inherit sooner than he could have dared to expect, Lizzy would continue on in the home she had grown up in as its mistress and Bennet could spend as much time as he liked on the pursuits that he preferred. While he yet lived – a state he hoped would persist for many years yet – the Collinses could share Lizzy's chambers and then, upon Bennet's demise, take up in the grander master and mistress' suite (assuming, of course, Mrs Bennet could be dragged from her rooms to make way for her successor, though such would not be Bennet's problem). This configuration might have a minor flaw or two, but the details could be sorted out later to all parties' satisfaction.

Regardless, Lizzy should be pleased that her father had shown her such condescension. Most gentlemen would never even consider raising a daughter as an heir, thinking that the female sex was unsuited to carrying such a mantle with credit. At most, they would pass an estate on as a dowry to be looked after by the girl's husband, but Bennet was offering so much more to Lizzy in deference to her intelligence and proven skill. Bennet had never been so insulted as when Lizzy had thrown his magnanimous gift back in his face.

And for what? Love? Stuff and nonsense! Romantic love had done Bennet no favors over the years and he had hoped – rather vainly, it seemed – for better for his offspring. It was pointless to try and convince Kitty and Lydia of the merits of selecting one's life partner impartially, and it seemed that the issue would be moot for Mary (he highly doubted that she would marry at all if she did not leave off the extracts and attend to something more sensible), but Bennet had expected more from his two eldest. Sweet, gentle, obedient Jane would make a decent match – Mrs Bennet was right about one thing, at least – and could never conceive of accepting the overtures of a gentleman her father disapproved of. That Bingley fellow might do, if his infatuation could ever be brought to the point. Lizzy would certainly prefer it if Jane were to reside so close to Longbourn and such would add more incentive to the match with Collins. But that was putting the proverbial cart before the horse; one night of dancing and flirting did not necessarily mean a gentleman was on the brink of an offer.

In any case, Bennet found himself most disappointed in Lizzy's apparent sensibility over sense when it came to securing her future. He had nursed hopes for much of her life that she, out of all his daughters, could be counted on to be rational when making such decisions, but Lizzy turned out to be a silly as any female when it came to emotional hogwash. Bennet blamed the rising popularity of novels for filling her head with such trash; it was certainly not the fault of the Greeks or historians. Just look at the man she had settled on, with his pretty looks, his rakish persuasions and grand gestures. He was some kind of Gothic nightmare! It was a wonder that Darcy the Dreadful had not scooped Lizzy up and whisked her away on his black steed to his crumbling, haunted castle against the backdrop of a raging storm.

Love, as Bennet had told Lizzy on that excruciating journey home from Derbyshire, was for fools and charlatans. It was a tool used by the unscrupulous to prey upon the weak minded, either for monetary benefit or just a bit of careless fun, and perpetuated by writers whose business it was to eke a few pounds out of the gullible masses. It was cheap titillation that primed naive young girls to be susceptible to so-called gentleman who would take advantage of them. Bennet only hoped that his Lizzy had retained enough of her natural sense to at least guard her virtue against Dastardly Darcy whilst she had been gallivanting around the north country.

And it was not only young ladies who fell into the trap of "love," either, though they were admittedly the most innocent victims of romantic deceit. No, every day gentlemen found themselves ensnared against their wills by the arts and allurements of underhanded females out to gain themselves a husband by any means necessary. Bennet knew that such things went on because he, himself, was one of the many casualties of such a scheme and he regretted daily the circumstances which had brought about his own marriage to Mrs Bennet, the once lovely and alluring Miss Frances Gardiner.

It had all begun innocently enough, as such things do, with an assembly. A bit of flirting. Some sparkling conversation. The soft flutter of lashes framing the finest pair of eyes Bennet had ever seen. A few sweet nothings, whispered against a fragrant cheek...and then he was caught.

The worst of it was that his parents, the late Mr and Mrs John Bennet, had previously selected a more suitable bride for their son and Bennet had refused her in favor of his current wife. Miss Frances Ward (2) might not have been the handsomest girl of his acquaintance, or the most clever, but she had not been ugly or ridiculous. At least, not until Bennet had disdained her as a bride and she had run off to marry a sailor, or some such. Bennet felt constant regret that he had allowed his romantic feelings for the current Mrs Bennet to dissuade him from making the far more sensible match his pater and mater had arranged for him. Had he not been so blinded by Miss Gardiner's wiles, Bennet might have recognized the reason behind his father's objections and two lives might have turned out for the better. Instead, Bennet was forced to live out the remainder of his life – or hers, depending on who preceded whom to their eternal reward – attached to a woman who had neither sense nor propriety and whose only intelligence rested in tricking honorable men into marriage. It had taken less than a year after meeting Mrs Bennet at the altar for Bennet to realize that he had been taken in but, by then, it had been far too late for any sort of remedy. Now their relationship was a series of wry quips and nervous flutterings, nothing like Bennet had expected when he had risked all for "love."

Well, Bennet decided as he folded both of his arms tightly across his chest and glared out into the hedgerows his wife was so frightened of, Lizzy would not suffer the same fate as he. Bennet would hold strong and use his authority, his cunning and every other weapon at his disposal to prevent her from falling into the same love trap that had caught her papa. Collins was not reckoned to be much more intelligent than Mrs Bennet, but at least Lizzy would not be let down by false expectations of a happily ever after. No, she would enter the marriage state with her eyes wide open and her rationality in tact, something Bennet had denied himself to his very great detriment some four-and-twenty years ago. Lizzy would never know the pain of disappointed hopes.

o0o

Footnotes:

(1) Que sera, sera – "what will be, will be." Apparently it's an English bastardization of a non-specific Romance language (Spanish, Italian, French, etc) which originated in England sometime in the sixteenth century. So says Wikipedia, anyway. If the saying seems familiar to you, however, it's likely because Doris Day sang a song of the same name in an Alfred Hitchcock film back in the fifties, which then brought it into the American consciousness.

(2) Miss Frances Ward – if you caught this reference, good on you! Miss Frances Ward is Fanny Price's mother from Mansfield Park. Why? Mostly because I could. If you recall, Eleanor Tilney made a cameo way back in Chapter 11.

Author's Note: Well, now we know more about what Mr Bennet is actually thinking. Like I've said several times to several people, he's mostly just being lazy and selfish while rationalizing that he's doing what's best for everyone. Still, he's obviously not going to lock Lizzy up in a tower or otherwise mistreat her, so we can't classify him as "evil." I don't want to go too deeply into this for personal reasons, but I've known people who are very much like this, who legitimately love someone but are incapable of thinking of others' needs above their own. I think Mr Bennet loves Lizzy very much, but he simply loves himself more.

Also, I'm going off a bit of artistic license regarding Mr Stephens' refusal to read banns for either couple until the confusion is cleared up. To me, he has a higher duty to the church and God to counsel his parishioners to get their shit straight before conducting any formal ceremony on their behalves. I would think that Mr Stephens, in good conscience, couldn't read banns for a couple if he wasn't assured that the bride would say yes when it came to the point (or against a father's permission). After all, we've established repeatedly that Lizzy has the right of refusal.

Anyway, on we go. Coming up next is Mrs Bennet's POV and...dun dun dunnnn...Collins is on his way. Stay tuned!

Due to my myriad difficulties of late, my posting schedule is currently in something of a limbo. I'm hoping to catch up to myself now that AHA is finished, but until I've made headway I can't say for sure what the ultimate end date for this story will be. I THINK the end of August instead of July but, again, I need to see where I'm at in a couple of weeks. Either way, it's in progress and I will NOT abandon DtRSaM. I'll keep y'all posted.

Please Help!

Time for a bit more audience participation! This time, instead of asking for romantic scenarios for ODC, I want ideas for how Mrs Bennet can run interference on Darcy and/or Lizzy's behalf. Think of ways Mrs Bennet can make trouble for Mr Bennet and/or Mr Collins, thwart Lady Lucas and/or Caroline Bingley, machinate with Mrs Philips and/or her daughters and just generally stir the pot. You can also consider sweet and/or embarrassing matchmaking schemes for her to inflict upon Darcy and Lizzy. These ideas can be funny, sweet or playful, but let's keep the angst minimal. As before with Chs 10-11, Ch 27 will be in drabble format. I'll be accepting ideas until June 12 so drop them to me via review, PM or email before then!

Next Update: May 22, 2020
Expected Completion: TBD; posting schedule under revision

– MrsMarySmythe